


Hypnotic

by dramaticinsanity



Series: Bright Eyes of the Solstice [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Hair Braiding, M/M, harriscofest 2018, vivid dreaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 10:44:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15580221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramaticinsanity/pseuds/dramaticinsanity
Summary: Cisco experiences a vision, or maybe a wishful yearning of things that may come to pass. He knows it won’t happen on its own.





	Hypnotic

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Harry braiding Cisco’s hair.

It’s humid as all hell. Cisco is occasionally typing on the computer with one hand, while using the other to himself with a small stack of paper. Cisco groans. He drops his head back on the desk. _Thump_. His T-shirt clings to him uncomfortably. His shoulders drooped with invisible weight. To tear out of his clothes and slip in a cold shower would be nice. Even better if he didn’t do it by himself.

Barry’s voice crackled in the comms, “I’ve lost him!”

Cisco stifles a sigh. “Take the alleyway. Cut him off.”

“Got it!”

Cisco resumes wordlessly watching the little blips on the screen. He accidentally wipes his face, smearing grease. He frowns at his hand. So much for tugging his sweat-soaked curls into a ponytail. The alert had torn him away from a project. He hadn’t cleaned up.

He doesn’t feel like it now. He continues to frown at his dirtied appendage, as though his stare will make it disappear. There’s a cough above him. He looks at Harry raising his eyebrow. A few rebellious strands of hair fall in front of his eyes. He tries to blow them away.

Harry chuckles. He motions for Cisco to tip his head forward. There’s the glint of a ring, on his finger. A matching one sits on Cisco’s. Cisco smiles with familiarity. Harry cards his hands through the curls first, scraping his nails along Cisco’s scalp. He moves behind him, yanking the hair band from his wrist.

He starts to work. His brow furrows in concentration. Harry tugs individual tresses, threading and looping with a practiced and certain air. He’s making braids along the sides. He can’t simply tie it, Harry has to give it flare. Cisco doesn’t remotely mind the intimacy of indulging him.

Cisco sighs when his nails scratch. He makes soft breathy noises when Harry pulls a particularly stubborn bit into place. Each firm tug is a reminder, each smooth motion is a declaration. He could stay here forever. He’s at Harry’s mercy.

He’s floating on the cloud of Harry’s focus. His trust is absolute. Harry won’t take advantage of his unguarded state. Cisco relaxes into the drag of his fingers. His scalp tingles as a sign his worries are being exorcised. Harry weaves the enchantments in his hair. Cisco could yammer about movies or science or something else. He’s content to remain silent. Harry follows suit, by his unspoken cue.

Harry dips to kiss his exposed collarbone. He adds another to his neck, another to his cheek. He resumes his work, connecting the braids at the back. Barry says something, but its muffled through the haze of Cisco’s peace. He ignores it completely. Harry secures his hair with the band at last. Some curls still hang loose, but the majority is wonderfully, thankfully, away from his face. Cisco feels sad it’s ended, but he knows it won’t be the final time.

Cisco touches the braids carefully, full of reverence. He grins, very pleased. Harry gives a short nod. For a moment, neither moves. They just look at each other. Barry could return at any time, or someone could break the tranquility. There’s a fluttering sensation in Cisco’s stomach, like this is the first time Harry has look at him that way, like they’ve never been alone while it happened.

“Pucker up, buttercup,” Harry orders gently. It’s more of a suggestion with an edge of desperation. They’ve been working for hours on end, barely able to spare a moment for affection.

Cisco tilts his head. He presses his lips forward. Harry hums and leans in. Their lips meet in a swift movement. It’s blazing yet soft, so soft. It’s like Harry’s lips are pillowing his, offering them comfort.

Cisco slides his hand up Harry’s bicep. Harry shivers. Cisco cups the nape of his neck. His free hand finds the one Cisco’s not touching him with. They clasp, like old friends hugging after many years, even if they’ve seen each other and done so recently. Cisco locates his pulse, beating hard against his thumb.

He deepens the kiss and licks into Harry’s mouth. Harry groans and buries a hand in Cisco’s hair, probably he can’t resist. He tugs on his handiwork, pulling to expose Cisco's neck. Cisco shudders and makes needy sounds as Harry mouths at his neck. Harry drags his tongue in a line from Cisco's collarbone to his ear. He nuzzles into Cisco's neatly woven locks. Harry pushes up his shirt in the back and drags his fingernails along Cisco's spine. Cisco nips at his collarbone where it's made available by his V-neck T-shirt. He kisses his way to find Harry's lips again.

They manage to disconnect, and Cisco stands. It's getting too intense to stay here. Harry’s hunger darkened eyes dart to their entwined hands. Harry rests his forehead on Cisco’s. The breath they share is loud in the quiet. Cisco longs to remove his bothersome shirt. Making out has only made the situation worse. Worth it.

Cisco mutters some excuse to the comms. He reluctantly stands, parting from Harry. He opens a breach, and they leap through. Cisco’s shirt is left discarded on the floor, quickly yanked off before crossing the threshold.

*

A voice distantly inquires, “Cisco?”

“Cisco, please answer me,” Barry pleads, grating on his nerves. “Cisco!”

Cisco clings to the waves. But they spit him out. He’s dashed across the cliff side. Cisco shudders and gasps. He stumbles to his feet. He knocks over his chair clear to the floor.

He immediately digs his fingers into his hair, hanging free like always. It’s quite warm, but no hellish heat wave. He's clasping a tool in his left hand, which he picked up after Harry threw it last night. There's no ring. He rubs the empty space, disappointment washing over him. 

Harry’s closeness, his warmth, his scent, the loving expression he held, Cisco can’t shake off. He’s kind of overwhelmed, struggles to breathe properly. He must have fallen asleep, had nothing but a fevered, yearning fueled dream.


End file.
